I'll be pulling from my old journal for a bit. Here I am.

At some point it dawned on me, I am a gay woman wrapped in a heterosexual suburban bubble. I am married to a fantastic guy I consider to be my best friend in the world. It is wicked complicated as of late though.

I had some amazing experiences with women before I was married. It was really a WOW thing. Nothing with the guys had been like that. First time with a guy? Really, I have nothing good to say about that. I do remember a distinct “well, that is done now” attitude. The first time with a woman? Wow. Hallalooya. Wow.

I had no concept of what lesbians were. No schema for the “homosexual lifestyle”. (Lifestyle… that is a tainted word.) I only knew one gay man and yet I was really clueless as to what that meant. I only knew he was gay because that is what everyone said about him. I heard of the term bisexual in college and figured that was me. You grow up, get married, and have babies. I just happened to like women.

Looking back I wonder if some of the things I experienced and felt and thought were the cues I only began to recognize in the last few months. I went along for a bit feeling sorry for myself that I had “missed the memo” and never had a chance to really experience these key moments in my young adult life. I found myself envious of those folks that KNEW from early on. Maybe I dodged a bullet though. I grew up in a small south Texas town. Enough eyebrows were raised when I dated a hispanic guy. Sheesh.

I have beautiful children. A great friend holding his heartache to help me grow. And the support of family and friends. It’s like winning the fucking lottery.